


That Nonsense Ride

by arimabat



Series: The Spiteful Chant [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Banter, Body Dysphoria, Bruce Banner Has Issues, Canon Compliant, Gen, Hallucinations, Insomnia, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Not A Fix-It, Not a nice fic, POV Bruce Banner, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Psychological Horror, Wakanda (Marvel), i guess?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-08-21 06:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16571558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arimabat/pseuds/arimabat
Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of Wakanda, Bruce has a dream about Loki. And then another one. And another. And soon enough, Bruce has to confront a horrifying possibility as the apocalypse unfolds around him.





	1. Keeping It Moving

**Author's Note:**

> Look… this isn’t a fix it. And it also really isn’t much fun for the characters involved. And it does get pretty dark. That being said, if you want to explore my particular take on ‘Loki had a plan' plus some fun Bruce-Loki interactions, then do please read.

“Hello, Bruce.”

Bruce almost had a heart attack.

Which was weird, because this was definitely a dream. Or a nightmare? Possibly a hallucination. He was at that level of sleep deprivation that even though he was pretty sure he’d found _somewhere_ to lie down and pass out, he didn’t even know any more.

He groaned to himself. “I’m not in the mood for this,” he muttered.

“That makes two of us.”

If his mind wasn’t going to actually give him something approaching _useful_ rest, he’d really like to wake up right about now. Because there was so much work to be done. Not… Not dealing with the apocalypse he had somehow stumbled into. Just the small stuff. Helping the injured. Trying to calm the people who were freaking out. Too terrified to check the news - not that he had anything to check the news _with_. Or that there was even news to check. Either way, he assumed other people were doing that. But he… just couldn’t.

“Wake up,” he told himself sternly. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d think that would work. It wasn’t like his mind was doing anything he wanted it to, lately. Or… ever.

“Before we’ve had a chat?” There was a soft _shh_ sound, and Bruce thought his nightmarish companion might have winced.

At last, Bruce looked at the figure properly. Sitting slumped back in an armchair, wearing a far simpler tunic-like garment than he had seen him in in life, his face was weary and cloaked in shadows. Yet it was unmistakably Loki - from the stringy hair to the watchful eyes to the wiry frame.

Of _all_ the figures to haunt him in his dreams, why him? Half a universe dead, and this was the figure his messed up brain decided to offer him? Not that he even knew who exactly was available to ghost him. All those he had seen vanish were either strangers or he had never gotten the chance to know well. The Maximoff twin - where was her brother? He had been too nervous to ask. They thought Wilson, Steve’s friend, might be gone. Nobody had been able to find him. Vision was dead. The king of Wakanda. The tree who had come with Thor. At least Thor was still alive. More than he had hoped, at one point.

As for Loki… It wasn’t like _they_ had ever gotten to know each other well. A monster who happened to be the brother of his friend. And then… No longer as monstrous. Merely another confusing piece of a puzzle Bruce had never had the time to make sense of.

“I can’t do this now,” he said, pinching at the bridge of his nose with thumb and index finger. It felt surprisingly real. “I - There’s too much other stuff. I can’t think about you now.”

A sigh came from the armchair. “Do you really think if there had been _any_ other way… As it was, I needed a ride. And since Heimdall was so kind as to offer one…”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Loki raised a hand and considered it, tilting it from one side to the other. “It wasn’t without flaws, of course…” The hand flickered and left an odd after image with a rainbow-tinged light. “But all things considered…” He made a flicking gesture with his hand and their surroundings solidified - Bruce hadn’t even realised things hadn’t been solid before that. Dream logic, he supposed. But now they were sitting in a room with high-vaulted ceilings and dark wooden panelings and a large bed with navy blue sheets and bookshelves lining most of the walls… It wasn’t familiar at all to Bruce. Something about it… So mundane, yet slightly… off.

The armchair remained, now standing in front of a wide window. Light was coming through, but even as Bruce tried to peer out, he could see nothing but a pale whiteness. There was only this room.

Loki looked at his hand with some satisfaction. “That’s better.”

“Did someone drug me?” asked Bruce, rubbing at his eyes. “Is this… Can you get high off vibranium?”

Loki snorted, quite unlike the maniacal laugh he remembered. “I’m not familiar enough with your Midgardian substances to answer that question. Shame, really… But no, I don’t think you are drugged. Simply, in my weakened state I’m having trouble reaching you when you’re awake.” He clenched his hand into a fist, an air of frustration hanging around him. “I’m having some trouble concentrating… I think that might be your fault, not mine. Did you have to wear your body quite so thin before finally letting yourself sleep?”

“People needed my help,” said Bruce, wondering why exactly he was letting himself get irritated by a figment of his imagination.

A shrug. “Not much point easing their pain, considering half the universe just died. It’s like trying to drink an ocean with a straw.”

Bruce blinked several times, wondering whether this was an Asgardian expression - which was obviously _ridiculous_ since this was just a stupid dream and he also didn’t think Asgard had straws. Then again, how would he know? He hadn’t ever really been there as non-Hulk him, and even then just long enough to see the place get trashed.

“Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try,” he said eventually, feeling like he should refute the point. It was the principle of thing, right?

Loki rolled his eyes, not looking like he was particularly impressed by Bruce’s reasoning. “This is beside the point. Now that I have you here -“

But he broke off, because suddenly Bruce could feel someone shake him and with him the entire room.

Loki gave out a low hiss. “Your friends need to learn to let you rest.”

Bruce almost wanted to laugh at the idea that _Loki_ was standing up for his sleep schedule. “They probably need -“

* * *

“- something.”

The last word was spoken in a drowsy murmur. He was awake.

His head did not like that. It didn’t like that at all and it informed him of that fact by sending a shard of incredible pain throbbing through him. For a moment, he wondered whether it would awaken the Hulk. Then again, that guy didn’t seem to be in the waking mood himself recently.

“Doctor Banner. I’m really sorry to do this, but we need your help.”

He opened his eyes to see the person who had shaken him stand rather nervously over him. It was a woman - dressed in the red armour some of the Wakandan soldiers wore. She looked about as tired as he felt.

“Yes, of course,” he mumbled. His back gave a painful twitch as he tried to straighten, though whether it was the battle or the awkward curled up position he had slept in was responsible, he did not know. Probably both.

* * *

It had been less than two days, he thought, since the battle. That sounded about right. Since then, everything had just been a blur. The initial shock, a kind of numbness that spread through him. The difficulty with which he had extricated himself from Tony’s suit, how Rhodey had helped him down, eyes blank, lines deeper than ever. Even as the others took care of the clean-up… If that was what they could call it. The remnants of Thanos’ forces, discarded when the brute no longer had any use of them. Writhing about in a mindless violence - seemingly _without_ mind, just filled by an incomprehensible rage and bloodlust. Bruce knew all about _that_.

He was useless with that. Useless out of that damaged suit, unable to call upon the Hulk. And so even as they fought, he tended to the injured. The Wakandan general who limped around, shouting orders, but she too was expressionless. Natasha, who had been buried in rocks, now cut and bruised in a thousand different places. She didn’t even seem to register it - whether out of long years of experience or due to what had just happened, he did not know. But soon he emerged into the wider battlefield. There was wailing, there were sobs. Mostly, there was just the numbness.

And he stumbled through it all. And somewhere in his mind, he knew the truth. And on a rational level, maybe just maybe he could understand it. Perhaps it would dawn on him. Perhaps he could feel what needed to be felt.

But no one can grieve for half the universe.

And he was so very tired.

Because, he realised as he kept stumbling, he hadn’t slept in so very long. Not as himself. How much time? It was hard to figure out - he didn’t even know what the Hulk had been up to and could you get space jet lag with a little bit of normal jet lag mixed in, just for laughs? Because he had that. He distantly remembered dozing off a bit in the jet to Wakanda, but that had been too brief and he had been too revved up on adrenaline and anxiety to get any proper rest. As for the last time he had slept in an actual bed as Bruce Banner…

Years. Years of his life. Gone.

And when he realised that as he wrapped another wound in gauze, the cruel weapons of the invaders leaving jagged edges in their victims where the skin tore off in messy shreds, he felt a shiver of rage. And then he tried to suppress it and then realised that there was absolutely no point. And he knew that getting angry at _that_ of all things… He had seen unimaginable suffering. Yet all the life that had just been _stolen_ from him - and now, now he had been dropped into this - How was he meant to understand? He hadn’t been here, he had… No clue, always no damn idea what was happening around him. And they all told him in small snippets but with all this craziness, he kind of wished someone could just tell him - preferably in chronological order - what the fuck had happened. But they were all too busy and he wasn’t going to be selfish enough to ask. He had patients to care to.

The ones that could still be treated, anyway.

It had been two days. That’s what he thought, anyway. There were makeshift tents and medical supplies flown down from the capital and he had to apply first aid again and again and again. They had impressive equipment to be sure. But they also weren’t used to war. Not on such a scale. And so they called on him, somewhere in the darkest hours of the first night teaching him to use their equipment as he learnt from people far more experienced than he was, the nurses learning to recognise his face so that when all the other doctors were occupied they would come to him. They were dealing with this the best, having been trained well in the art of compartmentalisation. The patients screamed in pain. And then they just screamed.

* * *

The soldier who had woken him up did so because they needed his help with an operation. This was probably a bad idea. It was definitely a bad idea. He was far too tired for steady hands. Yet the wound could not be treated with those nifty beads of theirs alone, cutting in so far into the thigh that it hit bone. The man hadn’t been found immediately - that was a mistake they were enraged about. So he had lain under foliage for two whole days as his flesh began to fester. One of the younger nurses looked like he wanted to retch. It was a miracle the man was still alive.

They were all in a trance, working away in a desperate attempt to preserve the life they could. On a hopeless, futile quest, as Loki had so rightly pointed out.

Loki. Who had been in his head.

Of _all_ the people his semi-delirious mind could have called upon…

He tried to dismiss thoughts of the odd shadow of his dreams, yet they refused to go away. Constantly jarring him, seeking to distract him from the vital task at hand. Oh well. At least the faint unease he felt was a guard against the crushing fatigue.

Bruce would have to sleep again soon. For some reason, the prospect was accompanied by a shiver of fear.


	2. Stressed Out

He didn’t even know where he had fallen asleep.

There was a room and a bed and a window and a figure in a chair. The figure leaned forward.

“You’re back,” said Loki. He opened his eyes briefly, his expression making Bruce shiver. Then he closed them again and settled back in his chair. “It is… so dreadfully dull here. A simple mortal brain can barely hold one mind, let alone two… Of course, I am lucky that it was you there.”

Bruce bit back another groan. “I just want to sleep,” he muttered, staring at the bed dolefully. He’d really like a bed like that right around now. But he ended up settling in an armchair that had appeared opposite to Loki’s. It was facing the window.

Even though this was a dream, his body seemed relieved to no longer be standing.

“It doesn’t help much,” said Loki, and something about the sheer melancholy in his voice got Bruce to look up at him. He seemed awfully small, half-curled up in that armchair of his. “You would think the mind would appreciate rest when it is available. And yet the waking world always seems to find a way to tear you back.” He raised a hand absent-mindedly and rubbed at his neck. “I know there is much I need to tell you while I can still make you listen to me. But every time I try to concentrate, it seems to… slip away.”

Slip away.

“We don’t have anything to say to each other,” said Bruce wearily.

But that only got him a grin filled with mischief. “Oh, Bruce. We have _so much_ to say to each other.”

“Like what?”

Loki didn’t answer.

A sound of water dripping appeared from somewhere and went nowhere. The undectable light source flickered.

“Your little monster,” said Loki, “he still scares you, after all this time.”

Bruce snorted, able to make the sound incredibly tired. “All right - so, the first thing we should get straight? I’m not scared of him. I’m mad at him because he didn’t show when I actually wanted him to.”

Something roared outside the window.

“Yes, I suppose you would like to think that… Better than the more pernicious fear that unpredictably brings with it.” He made a humming sound, before shaking himself. It made Brucerealise how unnaturally still he’d been. “It would be a little cruel even for me to go digging around in the corners of your mind, eh? In any case, as to your problems manifesting the form of the beast, I think that may have been my fault.”

“Your…” Bruce felt another headache coming on. “Is this my subconscious telling me I need to take better care of myself or something? Is my brain trying to get me into therapy?”

“All of those things would undoubtedly by advisable,” said Loki evenly as he ran his index finger over the palm of his other hand while staring right at Bruce. Even Dream Loki was creepy as hell, damnit… “In this case, however, the meaning is a little more straightforward than that. The Hulk is an expression of a part of yourself. Something pure, by its very nature. Untamed. But if that part of your mind were to be tainted, if you will… It is no wonder your green friend has not been prepared to show himself.”

This was all making absolutely zero sense to Bruce but some corner of his whacked-out brain was telling him he should probably be taking this seriously. This was the second time he’d dreamed of Loki. If he figured this out, perhaps he could avoid a repeat. “You mean… You… What do you mean?”

Loki sighed. “It’s not really that hard. Aren’t you supposed to be smart?” He shook his head slowly, a perfect picture of condescension. “I used magic to tie my consciousness to yours.”

That was… That was. No. “You’re lying.”

“Hmm. But if I were lying then this _would_ just be a figment of your imagination, which would mean there would be no me to lie to you. It would be your own mind trying to play tricks on you. Do you think you have gone insane, Bruce?”

“I don’t…” He paused, too tired to think - which was what sleeping was meant to help with but apparently even that was now too much a luxury for him. “You’re certainly as irritating as the real version,” he muttered, the words accompanied by a small groan and his hand reaching up to rub at his temple.

A small yet almost earnest smile alighted on Loki’s face. “How kind of you,” he said, as if he truly meant it. “Maybe there’s still more of me than I - You know, I wonder why time goes so fast here. Shouldn’t I be able to stretch these dream moments for longer?”

“Guess that’s not how it works.”

“It’s how things are _meant_ to work,” said Loki, frowning irritably before sinking even further into the armchair. “If I hadn’t been so tired myself… Maybe I will start slipping soon. It’s be so strange, for that to be the way the last piece of me fades…”

“Loki, what is this?” asked Bruce, gesturing around vaguely at their surroundings. “Seriously. What…”

“I told you. I used a spell before you left. My magic travelled with you and when I died, my spirit followed my magic.”

“Your… Oh, no. Oh no.”

“Calm yourself, Dr Banner.”

“Or what? I’ll - Apparently I can’t hulk-out and this is… It’s really, really not okay. How am I meant to _not_ freak out?”

“So you believe me?”

“I don’t know!” exclaimed Bruce, getting louder. “It seems like the kind of thing you’d do, because you’re just horrible. And… and no. I am so sick of all of this. Can’t you just all leave me be? Just - I was useless out there. So just leave me, damnit.”

“If you keep stressing yourself out, you’re going to wake up.”

“Fine. Fine! That’s - Fine. How am I meant to not freak out? And… and if that helps me escape you.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

“Oh, you’re _afraid_ , are you? You’re - The hell made you think you had the right to do that?”

“I don’t generally wait for permission.”

“Maybe you should. Asshole.”

Their surroundings flickered.

Loki sighed again, but it was more regretful than mocking this time. “You’re being intransigent. And possibly condemning your universe with it, as well as whatever’s left of me. Not that you care. Fine, wake up. Take your time. It’s not like people are suffering as you dally.”

Something dark coiled around Loki - like a thick plume of smoke that streamed over his skin and tightened. As Bruce watched in horror, the dark mist seemed to sink into Loki, touching him and turning him translucent. There was a flash of something blue, then red eyes staring back at him and growing larger and Bruce let out a short gasp as his chair fell backwards. The chair never hit the ground, instead sinking through and Bruce with it, twisting in midair as he saw the spiralling darkness follow him, twisting and writhing as it sped after him.

He jerked upright.

* * *

A lot of things happened for the rest of that day, which was an indeterminable length and started at an indeterminable time. All he knew was that they still needed help with the injured and he was still being asked to assist in operations, which was definitely something someone in his mindset shouldn’t be asked to do but when he tried to explain this to them, they gave him odd looks and told him they were tired too.

Which was fair.

But also they didn’t have a god talking to them in their sleep.

The sun was still bright in the sky when they told him to get some rest. So he walked out of the hospital and onto the path towards the makeshift sleeping quarters past the trees past the piles of ash past the tent past the stone stained with blood.

Something flickered at the edge of his vision.

His head jerked around but there was nothing except for the blank side of a building, the air in front it only slightly blurred. He was no longer really concentrating on where he was going.

* * *

And he stumbled and fell in the dirt right in front of Natasha. For a split-second, he had a wild thought that maybe he could just lie there. Just… not move any more, whatever anyone did. And eventually, they would leave him alone and he could just stop. Stop it all.

He got up and looked at Natasha with his sheepish grin, like it was kind of funny rather than utterly mortifying. “Hey.”

“You all right?” she asked.

“Fine.” He shrugged. “Guess I’m a little tired.”

Natasha smiled back at him and something approaching genuine amusement sparkled in her eyes. So he’d managed to giver her some joy. Great. Just… Great. “Not surprising. You should get some more rest. You’re no help if you’ve worked yourself to death.”

“Pretty sure the Other Guy wouldn’t allow that. Or… Maybe he would actually.” He jammed his hands in his pockets. “Heh. After all this, it’d certainly be a weird way to go out.” Well, that was certainly a dark joke to the extent that it was even a joke at all. His inner voice groaned at him.

“We’d better not risk it, then,” said Natasha, still smiling. “Go on, get some rest. You need it. Maybe even an actual bed this time?”

How exactly was he meant to explain to her that he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to go to sleep? Oh, and how there could possibly be a crazy god who had tried to invade the world only… damnit, was it really only a few years ago? So yes, that guy might have hitched a ride in his brain. Alternatively he was going insane, which frankly he felt like he’d kind of deserve after all this. What was the better option, in the end?

But he couldn’t say any of that, so he let Natasha direct him to one of the Wakandans who looked as numb as he felt and instead of sharing their grief, she showed him to a bed. It would have to come out at some point, a little part of him thought. They were all bottling it up for now, which was probably the only thing they could do. Try to deal with… with the stuff you could begin to deal with and not have your mind fall apart for -

No. He had to stop this. He could not think about this stuff now.

He had to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, actually managed to post something this month.
> 
> As I'm pretty much as tired as these characters are, I can only hope that the next update comes a bit faster than this one.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is from the 'A Tribe Called Quest' song 'Stressed Out', and chapter titles are song names.
> 
> This'll probably post... irregularly but I'll do my best. Do please comment, drop by my Tumblr at [@arimabat](https://arimabat.tumblr.com).


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